Of Man and Magic
by TheDarkestCon
Summary: Born into a world where Sorcerers were the damnations of humanity, Tony Stark had sworn his life to becoming the best weapons blacksmith known to Man and to play his part in wiping the abominations from the face of the earth. But when he stumbled upon one in the very flesh, injured and trapped in a snare of his making, Tony realized that they were not monsters after all.
1. The first encounter

**Chapter 1: The First Encounter**

_"__The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown."_

_― __H.P. Lovecraft_

The town of Genevra a mile behind, Tony Stark continued onwards, parallel to the edge of the gully as he broke through the treelines, eyes sharp and on the lookout. At his feet was a good 20 feet drop down into the steep gorge, where a body of fresh spring cracked from the face of the rock. It formed a gentle stream that ran through the narrow path as the opening several yards further eroded into a gaping valley that spanned miles forward towards the canyons beyond.

When he was a little boy, the river churned violently, the current stronger and the water level at greater heights. During the wet season he would not dare come close to the body of water deep in the valley. But two decades later, the river had rapidly dried up, especially in the current dry season where the sun was a scorching blaze in the sky and the mudbanks flanking the river were bone-dry. Facing westwards, Tony sucked in a deep breath, taking in the temporary serenity and peace carried by the comforting breeze despite the humidity. It was beautiful.

But dangerous all the same.

With his back against the steep gully, Tony swung his satchel around his back and retrieved his notes and handwritten location markings. He had not gotten the chance to check his traps after the scuffle at the border almost three days ago and finally deemed it safe to travel around the woodland on the outskirts of the town in solitary. With all the noise in the forest this would probably be a vain attempt but in the event of a success, Tony had rather not let the animal die of dehydration before he got to it.

This year, the dry season was especially unmerciful and last Tony had heard from the farmers the harvest was not doing well. Similarly, the wranglers had reported that livestock was dwindling. It was not terribly drastic that Genevra had to start rationing but it was bad enough for the people to feel the pinch.

As one of the best weapons blacksmith in town, though it not being his area of expertise, Tony felt obligated to pull his own weight around: there were only so much weapons one could forge and only so much battle armour one could upgrade. Thus, to assist the hunters and their wolfhounds, Tony had created a new set of experimental beast traps and scattered them around the edge of the forest.

Past experience had taught them that they needed the prey alive in the trap rather than dead when found - The last time they had used the basic steel-clamp snare, the hares had ripped itself apart in its vain struggle to escape. Stags and wild boars easily broke through the brittle metal. Honestly Tony had not realised how absolutely useless the previous traps were. He was going to have words with his people later about effectiveness and efficiency.

Contrary to popular belief and despite his profession, Tony really did not take delight in a slow and inhumane death for any living thing. No one deserved to slowly and painfully bleed out in the worst way possible. There really was nothing humane about trapping, food was food after all, but at least he could give them a quick and swift controlled end without any mangling.

Using a new method of pressure plates, a net and a complicated spring mechanic structure, the creation came to life. When the plate was struck, the pressure would release the heavy nylon netting under the trigger. As if the earth was going to swallow the prey, the contraption would rise from the ground below and consume the animal, pinning it down with the sheer size and weight of the net. Just like a dragonfly caught in a spider's web. Tony decided to strengthen the nylon with chainmail just so the animal would not be able to struggle out. (Not that it probably would, the net alone was already about a hundred pounds. Some might call it overkill but hey it was just his first draft and he was a perfectionist. There would always be room for improvement later.)

Frankly, it saved so much time and effort for retrieval. All they had to do to secure the animal was wrangle the four iron-reinforced ends together before hauling the fresh meat back to town.

Tony had thought of bringing Peter along, after all his apprentice was the one that had helped designed the traps alongside himself and affectionately gave the name _The Iron Web _to the creation. Peter had took it upon himself to bestold a name to all of Tony's creations, much to the latter's exasperation. Sometimes the blacksmith questioned why he picked the lithe, doe-eyed kid to pass his skills down to. But deep down Tony knew it was because Peter reminded him of his past young self. He hoped the light in the teen's eyes never went out and the innocence of life never extinguished.

However, Tony knew the boy was still inexperienced outside the safety of the townships. He was able to defend himself from foes but if there were to be rouge enemies around he would not have the strength to protect both the 14-year old and himself. He would know, his town had first-hand experience.

_Kill on sight. Or They'll come back to kill you. _

Anthony Edward Stark was born in the wake of fire and war with these words edged in his heart and ingrained into his memory. No one knew how they came to be but perhaps since the beginning of time, the Sorcerers made themselves known to the world. They were the epitome of abominations, a taint of the living and a disruption of the natural order.

While Man wielded axes and had to build physical defenses, these _beings _channeled their innate powers from fingertips and conjured golden shields of patterned mandalas through their palms. Where they walked, the Sorcerers scourged the earth and turned all they touched to dust and ash, leaving a trail of death in they path. Half of towns and villages were felled by the twist of their wrists and chantings of spells from the tip of their tongue. There were only so much one could do against a higher being that had the power of supernatural at their fingertips. Fear raged as powerful as the battle surrounding the people.

But humanity had proved again and again that they were a stubborn bunch. Man had evolved to endure hardship- even against the impossibly bleak circumstance. They were not one to lie down and surrender so easily.

The Chiefs their Trackers and tacticians of all towns banded together tirelessly and sieved through each defeat and battle with a fine-tooth comb, struggling to look for weaknesses; anything that might give them an edge. Their search was ultimately not in vain. After a rather long and arduous battle, Man came together to the same conclusion that there were two important factors that they had over those magical abominations: Endurance and unity.

It turned out that a Sorcerer had a limited amount of magic they could use in their arsenal of tricks and they worked alone like lone wolves in a broken pack. They had no tactics, no strategy, no teamwork. Just a wild individual storm of madness.

So Man stood firm and planted themselves in the eye of the storm, unwavered and in union and fought back with strength of a thousand men.

Man started to forge stronger armor and weapons to hold up against the Sorcerers who were only clad in robes and rough hooded cloaks and goaded them to exhaust their magic supplies. Man targeted and crippled their hands where the sparks was channeled out. Man converged and picked their battles, taking each sorcerer down one at a time instead of going up against all of them as an entire entity. And then came the very day where the first Sorcerer fell: Man realized they had finally changed the tide of this war.

Because under all the magic and power, under all the dark robes and flaming gold, Sorcerers were still failable- they were still human.

And humans could be killed.

Failure dwindled. Defense morphed into attack. Man hunted the Sorcerers down like the abominations they were. Chased them away from their towns like animals.

Till one day they just all stopped coming altogether.

Sorcerers became the bogeymen in the bedtime stories mothers told their children. The things that went bump in the night. The monsters in the dark to fear. They were rare nowadays, a couple of rouges here and a little confrontation there but never again did towns fall under their name. But the town of Genevra remained vigilant nevertheless.

Tony recalled the Trackers marching back in high spirits days ago, Rogers sweeping the company as they emerged victorious. There were a couple of burns and bruises but nothing that was fatal.

"Well we hopefully wouldn't be seeing them again anytime soon." Rogers had announced two days ago, quick to dismount his stallion as Tony came to greet them at the entrance wanting to see how his latest weapons farred in the skirmish.

"Ahh you should have seen us Tones." The taller blond added with one hand adjusting his silver-navy chestplate before throwing him a smirk. Tony remembered ducking his head, rolling his eyes at the nickname and tried to look everywhere but those baby blues.

"Well do you want a congratulatory clap on the back for your good work Spangles?" He quipped back with apparent false adoration, refusing to add to Roger's slowly growing ego. Albeit, it was not all fake. Steven Rogers was the town's best warrior and Captain of the Trackers. With his adonis-sculpted body, that razor sharp jaw-line and those piercing sky-blue eyes, Tony was lying if he was not a little smittened by the excessive attention Rogers had been giving him recently.

Rogers barked out a contagious laugh that unwittingly curled Tony's lips into a smile before replying sweetly like a child that had been given candy before dinner.

"Mhm I would be blessed to have Genevra's sturdiest hands to do the honors for me."

Blood rapidly rushed up the blacksmith's face and Tony could not hide the red that suddenly dusted his cheeks at the innuendo. Ignoring the good-natured chuckles from the rest of the Trackers, Tony flipped them the bird before beating a hasty retreat.

By Roger's side in the company stood Clinton Barton. He was undoubtedly the best marksman in town with frightening hawk-like accuracy and a perpetual resting bitch-face. Said face had now tears running down from gwaffing at the antics between his captain and their blacksmith. Barton and him never really saw eye to eye at first. Their conversations often consisted of snark and loaded words of sarcasm. It was only recently where Tony had created new explosive arrows-tips and a lighter, sturdier bow for the marksman had Barton's attitude towards him lightened. One was not that stupid to had beef with Genevra's best weapons blacksmith who forged weapons that had the highest efficiency in battle. (He was just that good).

Shadowing them both was SIC tactician Natasha Romanoff. A year ago, Tony had made a fatal error by second-guessing Romanoff's ability to wield the weapons that he had forged for the men. In retrospect, Tony should have known better, she was no ordinary dame. Needless to say the weapons blacksmith had long learnt his very unforgettable lesson. Hopefully, with the amount of new armor and upgrades he had been providing her, he had successfully placated Romanoff from killing him in his sleep.

Tony watched wistfully as Rogers grabbed his weapons satchel and unlatched a heater-shaped shield still in its sleeve from his horse, going from flirty to serious in a heartbeat as he began giving orders to his company to remain for a debrief. Apparently, there were a trio of lone low-powered Sorcerers sighted along the western side of the area within 3 miles of the town which spelt danger.

Strangely, the magic-users did not attack when the company advanced. Within 15 minutes, they backed down and the Trackers chased them as far as the start of the canyons before turning back. This was the first time in a couple of months that Sorcerers had been seen. Rogers still have not decided if it was a tactical retreat for them in preparation for something bigger or a straight up folly on their part. But one would not look a gift horse in the mouth. When the time came, Genevra would be ready to defend.

For the longest time Tony had always wanted to be part of the company of Trackers. To patrol the borders and protect his town in battle. But after The Fire, his weakened immune system and health made him perceptible to fatigue, breathlessness and vertigo if overexerted. Rubbing his sternum unconsciously, the weapon's blacksmith traced the lines of raised skin that encircled his chest just above his beating heart, inhaling sharply as the memory hit him faster than the air that entered scarred lungs.

On his third birthday, a blaze of inferno decimated half of Genevra. Tony was found, chest riddled with shrapnel and covered in his parent's blood. If smoke inhalation had not killed him, the puncture wounds inches from his heart would have. Tony should have died on that fateful day but somehow, by the will of a higher being, he pulled through. But never again could he run as fast as his peers or battle in long hours of combat like the warriors. Till this day, no one had discovered the responsible party. However, townsfolk have been pointing fingers at the Sorcerers. How else could a fire could burn for so long and so rapidly? Moreover, survivors had said that they felt a darkened sense of unease surrounding the town. Apparently, 28 years since Genevra had been infiltrated by either nature or mystic, it was said that the lingering feeling of _the supernatural_ never abated.

If it was not for Yinsen, Tony's mentor who pulled him up and raised him out of the flames, Tony would have probably taken his life before his age reached double digits. The elder blacksmith took it up to himself to be a father figure Tony so desperately needed. Yinsen taught him everything, from basic first aid to forging the strongest iron. It was then where Tony found his love for creation and the art of constructing.

In time, when the smoke cleared and the dust settled, Genevra rebuilt itself back to its former glory. And so did Tony Stark.

"Don't waste it." Yinsen had whispered forlornly years later on his deathbed, aged-cloudy eyes locked firmly onto his as Tony sat by his side tearfully and stayed till he took his last breath.

"_Don't waste your life Stark." _

So as Tony caught sight of the red, white and blue shield he had personally created out of a new concoction of metal alloy, though blemished with several scourge-marks and dotted with scratches but undoubtedly _whole _and finally unbroken in Roger's proud grasp; the man smiling softly as he headed towards the blacksmith to present the success of his newest edition, Tony knew that this was what his life was meant for.

_If he couldn't physically protect his town, he was damn well sure he was going to avenge it: For the fallen of the past and for the generations to come in the future. _

Tony blinked out of his musings as he felt his boot scrap the edge of the valley halting him in his steps instinctively and rushing his mind back to the present. Right. His traps. Gazing down into the waters deep within the gorge, the blacksmith exhaled sharply. Damn that was close. He had got to stop pondering and walking around, one day it was going to get him killed.

The sun was lowering sluggishly into the canyons of the west, drapping the air into a cooler bearable temperature. Tony estimated he had around an hour of sunlight left before it grew too dark to wander around.

"Right. Let's hurry it up now." He announced under his breath, raising his handwritten location markings towards the light and studying them intently. There were three traps placed 20 yards between each other, all parallel to the treeline and the valley. He had to be careful, it would not do him and his health well if Tony accidentally triggered his own trap and was stuck under it for the entirety of the night. The blacksmith did not want to raise his expectations, after all these were just experimental snares. For all he knew they might not have worked at all.

(A little part of him wanted to see Peter's excited and adoring face when he brought back The Iron Web's first catch though. That kid really worshiped the ground he stood on. He did not want to be that guy to tell him that he was failable like any other man.)

But as he walked on, his hopes were setting faster than the sun. The fist two traps were intact but unmistakably empty. Grumbling under his breath, Tony was sorely tempted to turn back and return to Genevra. He could feel the chill of dusk seeping into his chest and was starting to feel the pangs of hunger-

A glint of metal that flashed, reflected from the last dying strands of sunlight about six yards away caught the sharp eyes of the blacksmith.

_Bullseye _. Tony smiled internally as he picked up the pace. There was a sizable lump under clumps of kicked up leaves directly at the spot of the third trap's location.

The last trap had definitely been sprung.

Delight surged through his body, adrenaline warming himself momentarily. In the madness of the border skirmish some poor creature must have ran right into the trap. Just want he needed to end an unsatisfactory day. As they say, third time's the charm!

But as Tony neared his snare, it dawned on the weapons blacksmith like a slap in the face that it _was not an animal that was caught._

His jaw dropped with an audible snap, good mood evaporating. Shaking fingers unconsciously slid to the dagger at his belt as Tony backed away with a sudden rush of realization and dread.

" Oh _fuck _me. "

For lying just five feet away, motionless and entangled under the web of thick nylon ropes and heavy metal iron, was a _Sorcerer_.

**A/N**

**It started of as a dream I had after re-watching Doctor Strange: What if the world saw Sorcerers as monsters to kill? Thus this came alive. Also recently, I have been waist-deep in Ironstrange stories and I have been quite obsessed! So this is my very first attempt at fanfiction in this fandom and for this ship. I know this has been quite description heavy and I promise there'll be more dialogue in the coming chapters between our favorite boys. I just had to build up the AU storyline first. With that said, I really don't mind hearing any conducive comments or criticism from the true veterans here on this site xD**

**Welcome to 'Of Man and Magic ' Hope you guys will stay for the ride! :)**


	2. Nightmare in the flesh

** Chapter 2: Nightmare in the flesh**

_"He that has revenge in his power, and does not use it, is the greater man."_

_-Wellins Calcott_

Tony did not have much concrete memories of his parents. One would think that it was unfortunate but Tony would rather he never remembered them at all. Because his only vivid recollection of his mother was her tear-stricken face as she clutched his tiny self to her bosom as the sweltering heat around them grew unbearable. It was of his father rushing in vain to beat the flames with desperation to protect his family. The only clear memory he had of them were of their deaths.

On Tony's chest hung the only reminder to the Starks. It was a circular silver talisman, shaped in an arc almost like a half-crescent moon. Slightly larger than a copper coin, it was covered with intricate carvings along the outer perimeter and criss-crossed with runes and a ragged outline of a pentagram. Nestled in the middle of the dull metal was a contrasting cerulean. In the darkest of night it would almost seem to glow an eerie wash of blue. Yinsen had told him that it had been his mother's and that she must have decided to place it in his tight fist before their house went up in blaze of fire on that fateful day. This was the closest thing to a family heirloom he could compare it to.

Tony had never taken it off ever since, the comfortable weight of the talisman resting among the scars. A memory of the fallen.

So when the first thought that seized Tony's mind at the sight of the ensnared Sorcerer was '_ Is It still alive?" _The prospect of _concern _for the goddamn enemy who slaughtered his people and ripped his life into shambles frightened him and shook Tony right to the core.

Disgust rolled in waves and the hate he had for that- that _creature _in the trap was tangible. There was no doubt what he had to do next.

_Kill on sight._

Lying defenseless and unconscious, trapped under a hundred pounds of reinforced metal, nylon and iron, it should be a child's play to thrust one of his daggers into the left of its chest and ending the Sorcerer's life in an instant.

Yet as Tony slid the serrated blade from its scabbard and knelt down crouching on the edge of the sturdy net, he could not seem to ignore the way his hands were trembling. A blacksmith's hands was as steady as a rock and it was on that foundation where one's creations could be forged. It protected lives. It defended lives. Today however, Tony's hands felt like a newborn's. The weapon in his hands weighing down on his palm like a ton of bricks.

In spite of everything that had happened, Tony Stark had never taken another human life. Death and pain were familiar to him and he had been a witness to the casualty of both Man and Sorcerer alike. His weapons were always responsible and there was plenty of blood on his hand.

So why could Tony Stark not take this life, evidently unmatched to a human's with his own two hands?

With a frustrated bitter cry, he tossed the dagger onto the earth and viciously glared at the motionless being which provided him no resolve. The Sorcerer was sprawled on its left side, its arm pinned under the weight of its body and the other draped on the forest floor. Its tell-tale navy robes were savagely ripped and shredded in places, exposing pale bruised flesh and thin lines of red. A long maroon length of cloth was wrapped around its shoulders and seemed to peak out from the web of the snare. All in all, it did not look like the terrifying monster Tony had grown to know and resent. It just looked like a hapless, injured animal trapped and waiting for the inevitable death.

Where was the honor in slaying a defenseless enemy? A wave of disgust suddenly consumed Tony. When did he start stooping so slow just to quench his thirst for revenge? He would be as good as the cold-blooded _malevolent_ _being_ in front of him.

But Sorcerers were the scum of the earth! They were supposed to be hated and abhorred with his entire heart. They could not be compared to the means of humanity.

_How then would you know where his heart is? _A soft voice stirred from the depths of his soul.

And then Tony froze, all feeling leaving him as if a rug had been yanked out from under his feet. Under the long matted hair hiding its features and fleaks of dirty blond-grey strands at its bleeding temple, gleaming inhuman eyes peered warily and stared straight into Tony's. It seemed to gaze right through his very soul, a myriad of emotions swirling in the exchange causing the blacksmith to take a step back. The trap shifted slightly and wordless gasp of pained surprise escaped the Sorcerer who was now very conscious and awake. Tony felt like he had been punched in the stomach because…

It almost looked and sounded oh so… _Human._

As quickly as it happened, the Sorcerer closed his eyes once more, snapping Tony out of his daze long enough to see a warped sense of resignation and acceptance settling over his slack face before going limp once more.

_Kill on sight._

Tony squeezed his eyes shut. His frenzied internal turmoil continued to rip through him mercilessly. The metal in his hand was growing foreign. But the gentle whisper of morality drowned under the fierce scream of avengeavenge_ avenge._

_Kill on sight._

Tony plunged the dagger down with all the resolve of a broken man, bracing himself to tear deep into soft flesh and to feel the warmth of blood trickling through his fingers.

But no crimson stained the earth with the death of a living soul as the release of metal echoed in the darkness and the rough coarse of torn nylon slipped away and-

"What th-mPHF"

_Pain_. A streak of scarlet exploded across Tony's cheek as _something _whipped through the air and descended onto him. In a flash, it wrapped around his shoulders and smothered his face, sending him toppling forwards into the leaves and slamming into the forest floor. Grappling blindly, the blacksmith clawed and writhed at whatever was slowly suffocating him.

It all happened too fast.

Tony struggled to orientate himself as his fingers dug desperately into a twitching thick material that almost felt like a cape of some sort. His mind whirled and adrenaline roared through his veins as he tried to recall all the self-defence classes he had gone through.

Who was he kidding.

Good lord, it was a Sorcerer. _He just fucking freed a Sorcerer_. And now it was slowly sucking the life out of him. What was he thinking!

A low sharp baritone of command rumbled across the clearing and as fast as it attacked, the thing untangled itself from Tony's neck and disappeared out of his spotted vision. Gasping and spluttering, Tony welcomed the fresh, fresh air that flowed into his battered body. Staggering back, trying to ignore the burning in his lungs, the blacksmith tried to put as much distance between himself and the enemy. But he froze as he raised his eyes to rest on the attacker.

It was a scarlet… cloth? Oh. _Oh _. There was no one donning said material.

It was fucking floating cape.

Tony did a double take, eyes blown wide, jaw trembling agape. Disbelief knitted his brows and lines of utter confusion crossed his forehead.

It was settled. He was officially losing his very mind.

An audible gasp sounded somewhere on his left causing Tony to swing his head back. A sharp intake of breath escaped his lips and he felt the last shreds of sanity evaporate instantly.

It was as if time itself had stopped, leaving Tony suspended in that very moment.

Like a terrifying nightmare awakening, the knowing figure rose from the earth, eclipsing the sun and casting a shadow that engulfed him.

The Sorcerer stood at full imposing height before the blacksmith in all his glory. The colors of the dying light illuminated the mystic and the hair-raising feeling of untamed magic clung to Tony's clammy skin, freezing his thoughts and trapping all movement. Now standing he could see the Sorcerer clearly. The being was at least 4 inches taller and looked a hundred times more menacing especially when the magical floating cape came to rest on his shoulders and flared itself out like a bristling cat.

Tony could do nothing but peer into the glowing inhuman eyes that seemed to yet again had him transfixed in fear. This time he could see that they were a mixture of the deep azure sky and the shade of green like a new leaf sprouting after winter. The epitome of calm in an obvious facade of death.

_Oh how the tables had turned. _

With a flick of a wrist and a twist of fingers, bands of green wrapped around the Sorcerer's arm and there was a surge of raw energy which made Tony's heart beat twice as fast and caused him raise his hand unconsciously to shield his face. _This was it. _Tony decided squeezing his eyes shut in trepidation. He was going to die here miles from his town, alone and stricken in terror with a Sorcerer he freed.

The irony of the entire goddamn situation tore a hysterical half-sob from him.

The hum of magic swirled the air around him and abruptly, the passage of existential came to a complete grinding halt. The winds were silent and the forest still. There was not even a whisper of the living. The pounding of his heart rang in his ears and Tony felt his chest burn strangely as he coiled himself into an even tighter ball; bracing for his imminent destruction and the pain that inevitably accompanied.

But it seemed that fate yet again had other plans for Tony Stark.

An odd encompassing feeling of _safety _flowed over him and in a blink of an eye it seemed life had restarted again and suddenly everything was alive once more.

Including him.

He was... not dead?

Thoroughly bewildered, Tony lifted his eyes meekly with all the strength of a new-born kitten. His mind in array, the blacksmith tried to figure out _how the fuck was he still alive_. Then he found his answer. Said executioner had stopped dead in his tracks and if it were possible was looking even more confused than Tony had ever been.

The Sorcerer's face twisted into a mask of badly hidden dismay as his magic which was pointed at Tony flickered weakly and the glowing emerald mandalas dissolved into sparks of natural light.

As the glint of magic bounced back onto the earth, Tony suddenly a surge of unexplainable courage considering the circumstances. Standing mere feet away Tony could finally get an unblemished view of the enemy again. There was clearly something wrong with the Sorcerer. His face had an unmistakable pasty tint to it and the sharp cheekbones seemingly distracted the fact that his cheeks were unhealthily sunken. Under his navy robes he might be concealing an injury of some sort if the mystic's shuffling of his lanky body and favoring his left side was any indication. Heck even his magic was the wrong color. For a second, Tony felt a twinge of something pull at his heartstring.

Well he had no time for that. Right now he had a chance to escape with his life and body intact.

A badly formed idea was forming in the madness of the storm of emotions raging in his mind. He couldn't fight a damn Sorcerer, that Tony knew. So that left him with few other options.

In hindsight it was probably the dumbest move ever but then again Tony was always a 'shoot first, think later' guy.

It was definitely what got him into this mess to start with.

With a snarl of "Get the fuck away!" Tony reared up and kicked up a rain of dust and leaves and flung his satchel hearing the Sorcerer splutter in shock. Swiftly, he turned away and started sprinting eastwards back towards where he had been ten minutes before. It was a longshot but he had to try.

He had two more unsprung traps lying 15 yards away...

All hope left him like a gust of wind when the foreboding sound of magic pricked the air. Golden strands of energy started to conjure out of thin air three feet from him causing him to freeze in his tracks instinctively.

"I cannot let you go just yet."

The low rumbling words, foreign yet known, reverberated behind the fleeing blacksmith. Without turning back he knew who the owner of the voice was. It chilled Tony down to his core felt his stomach drop. Looking up to see a completed buzzing patterned shield of flaming gold blocking his escape, Tony knew his time was almost up.

Talk about being stuck between a rock and a hard place. If he survived, he would have a bloody different perspective of that idiom.

But this time, once before lying dormant, determination rose up and burned deep in his veins. Tony was not going to lay on his stomach and die like a dog as he was to become a casualty of the enemy, not when he had gotten so close. Not when he still had a chance. Now he felt why the rabbit tore itself to shreds in his trap, desperate attempt to escape. It wanted to live. Likewise, he had gotten a taste of freedom and was literally a grasp away from death.

_What more did he have to lose?_

As a last means of desperate retaliation, Tony swerved away sharply from the magical blockade and hurdled his twin daggers he kept on his belt blindly through the air. He flinched in terror as the hollow seemingly sentient cape rushed towards him again deflecting one of it easily. But it halted in its path towards Tony as a frighteningly_human _cry tore out and rang into the forest.

It was almost unbelievable.

One of his daggers hit home. The long serrated metal was buried to the hilt deep in the right thigh of the Sorcerer.

The orange mandalas on the fists of the mystic dissipated together with the shield behind Tony in an explosion of sparks and the Sorcerer dropped onto one knee. Trembling fingers clutched at the ragged wound and pain oozing out of the enemy's body in tangible waves. It seemed that the Sorcerer's energy was all but sucked out of him and all that was left was a pale, bleeding broken shell. The ache in Tony's chest returned.

_Was that a feeling of sympathy for the enemy? _

For a moment, no one moved. Man looked at Sorcerer and history was made at that point with neither making any move to attack the other. If an outsider was spectating that very moment it would look like they were just two strangers at a stand-off. So painfully similar yet distinctly worlds apart.

Then without warning, the mystic surged forward causing Tony to let out a shriek of terror. But it was not an act of aggression, if anything it was the opposite. The sentient cape splayed out, successfully shielding the Sorcerer this time and a shock of scarlet flocked the blacksmith's vision.

The last thing Tony saw when his eyes were finally unobscured was the Sorcerer breaking through the treeline and teetering on the edge of the cliff.

In the last light of the sun's rays, Tony caught a flash of unreadable emotions flitting rapidly across the Sorcerer's face as his inhuman eyes blazed and locked onto the blacksmith's who stood suspended and shaken in awe.

Tony had never before seen something so goddamn imposing and dangerously petrifying yet strangely feeble and broken with all the reflections of humanity.

Then the Sorcerer closed his eyes and _tipped himself forward. _

A stricken scream tore itself from Tony throat that echoed down into the long shadows of the valley as he saw the man plunged down the side of the gorge, a flash of red spilling over the ledge, before vanishing in a into the depths of the void.

"Holy shit…" All sense of words left Tony in a rush and he scrambled urgently to his feet. The blacksmith peered over the edge, overwhelmed with confusion and a smudge of horror. Distantly, Tony thought he could faintly hear the splash of water and the crunch of dirt before it was all silent again.

But there was no sight of the Sorcerer. He had literally dropped off the face of the earth and disappeared into thin air, leaving no trace but scuff marks on the ground and crimson in the dirt.

If he had a moment to think in the whirlpool of madness that had happened, Tony would had thought Barton would have been proud of him at that lucky aim. Something deep in him wondered with all the power and magic why the enemy failed to reflect such a longshot. Why did he run? Was that _fear _he saw in the Sorcerer's eyes before he disappeared? But oh boy was this not the time to ponder as Tony picked himself up, backed his way slowly from the edge of the darkness and readied himself to get the _fuck out of there._

"I freed a Sorcerer." Shaking his head, a hysterical bark of laughter left the blacksmith. Before he could timely grasp the situation, Tony collapsed onto his knees incredulously, his body numb to the coldness seeping into his bones and his mind struggling to comprehend.

"He tried to kill me. I stabbed him and he jumped off a fucking cliff."

On autopilot, Tony picked himself up in a strange detached sort of way. Before he knew it, he was moving and breaking into a run, sprinting with all the strength a man could muster. The forest whisked by in a swirl of leaves and shadows. The earth dipped under his feet in the mad race to get to safety. Home.

His muscles screamed, lungs burned and heart pounded but Tony surged ahead and could not stop till he saw the familiar twinkling lights at the gates of Genevra just as the last entrails of the sun vanished into the horizon.

Everything was hazy. Everything was in a daze. _Everything was going too fast._

The stars emerged, dotting the midnight sky and welcomed the glow of the crescent moon who peered through the clouds. The guards stood alert at the entrance, facing the western side and held steadfast vigil from dusk till dawn. And the people of Genevra settled in for the night peacefully. As they always did. It was routinely, typical and ordinary.

Almost.

Tony staggered shakily into his home that night, the walls of emotions collapsing all at once in the place of safety. Hot tears welled up in his eyes feeling the stress of the day caught up to him. In that very moment Tony knew nothing was going to be normal again.

_Why didn't you kill on sight? _The voice of reason chanted unceasingly in his head as the consequences of his actions came rushing at him like a monstrous wave in a gale of destruction, closing his throat shut and filling his lungs. The memory attached to him like a parasite, guilt and a sense of uneasy foreboding chewed on his brain painfully, unwilling to let him rest or find a semblance of solace.

Blood roared in his ears and his mind screamed with the mercy of the stranger in the forest.

_Now he'll come back to kill you. _

But the quiet of his soul whispered back to him standing strong in the eye of the storm.

_Will he?_

Oh God. _What has he done?_

**A/N**

**Well wasn't that a rollercoaster. I felt like I was going to have to take a run through the woods myself to calm down. Thank you for the favourites and support in the first chapter. I really appreciate them :)**


	3. Tis folly to be wise

**Chapter 3: 'Tis folly to be wise**

_"Knowledge Is Power, Ignorance Is Bliss: Happiness Is Striking The Perfect Balance." _

_― Unknown_

Peter Parker liked to observe people. One could say he was way too observant for his own good. But it came as natural as a sixth sense to him.

Besides, nothing could make his day better than discovering something feverishly new about the people of Genevra.

For instance, Peter knew that Doctor Banner was the town's best healer despite his seemingly rough cantankerous bedside manner. Rumors had been said to never antagonize the doctor as he had serious anger management problems but Peter really identified with the guy. With the threat of the Sorcerers dwindling, the young men in Genevra sometimes did real stupid things to entertain themselves with to escape from the circle of boredom. In which 70% of the cases caused them to end up injuring themselves in the process. Some of the regular patients were real assholes. Peter figured Brock Rumlow was the biggest dickhead amongst all of them as within the company of Hunters and his best friend had confirmed the fact.

"My brother literally is on his last string of patience with him." Shuri had lamented with a dramatic sigh. "I can't wait for the day T-Challa pulls rank and demote him to be a butcher instead."

Peter had seconded the notion.

He even managed to work out that the ever impassive and hard-headed Chief Fury had a secret love for the town cats. It was a stroke of good luck really as it was made known to him when Peter was helping Aunt May pick fresh vegetables from the food stalls in the heart of town. Every other day as the Chief made his rounds around the town with his second, Maria Hill, Fury would always pass by the main marketplace where the smaller pets usually gathered and where the wolfhounds roamed. He was particularly fond of that one orange tabby who would always wound itself around the Chief's ankles and leave fur all over Fury's socks.

Peter also concluded that Captain Rogers of the Trackers was pinning hard for his mentor who was oblivious to the growing attempt. It was truly embarrassing. Alas Peter had only verbalized those thoughts to himself of course. He didn't want to be on the Tracker's bad side. But deep down, the teen knew that Rogers seemed to be infatuated with what Mr Stark could offer rather than Mr Stark himself.

And Peter Parker was real certain said man was a step away from falling into a hole of epic anxiety and fretting which he had been pacing the floor ofThe Forge with.

As his apprentice, Peter would come to work with the older man from the late mornings till dinner time, four to five times a week. The hours were pretty flexible to be honest and he really enjoyed every moment with his mentor. It was not everyday you get to work side by side with the best blacksmith in town.

But as of late, Mr Stark had been oddly distracted and strangely jittery. For in the past two days, Tony had been a nervous wreck, jumping at his shadow or getting lost in his head; and by the looks of the bags under his eyes, he wasn't doing a good job sleeping at night. Also it did not go unnoticed that there was a tender looking bruise blooming on the blacksmith's left cheek and suspicious looking marks under Tony's jaw and collarbone. "I walked into a tree," he had said upon Peter's questioning gaze.

Sure he did. And pigs could fly.

"Here, let me get that for you Mr Stark." Peter remarked exasperatedly as he saw the man dip the same piece of iron plate to cool into a barrel of water again for the third time in five minutes. As if Tony had been slapped, the man flinched and snatched the metal away from the youngest before snapping sharply.

"Goddammit kid! I got this stop it!"

Peter heard the tremor in his voice and waved off the stricken look Mr Stark gave him the moment the rash words tumbled out of his mentor's mouth. Something was up if it was significant enough to affect his work which was Tony's life. But knowing the emotionally-constipated blacksmith, Peter figured it was time to bring out the big guns.

"Mr Stark?" The younger asked with nothing but open concern for the older blacksmith.

"Is everything ok?"

All the fight left his mentor like a deflating balloon and Peter easily plucked the iron plate from Tony's limp hands before taking his time to walk a little distance away to set it aside. Tony was fidgeting unconsciously with the cord of his talisman which was hidden under his loose shirt and working his jaw steadily. It was tell-tale signs that something consequential was bothering him and Peter was going to give him the space to figure himself out in privacy but with the knowledge that he was nearby and willing to listen.

Mr Stark could be a barbed-tongued menace when the situation came up to it but Peter knew the man wore his heart on his sleeve and cared deeply about the people closest to him. In the beginning, Tony was reluctant to mentor him, afraid to burden Peter with the decades of painful baggage. But it was clear that there was no one better could relate to Peter on an emotional level than Mr Stark. They were both equally dysfunctional in their own ways.

Thus they agreed to have an open communication between them and the ability to confide with each other freely. Tony was quick to warm up to him and within a week, the older man had taken Peter under his wing. Aunt May was lovely and supported him tirelessly through and through but it was nice to have an adult father-figure to turn to sometimes. On bad rainy days when water streaked across the window panes and lightning tore through the air, the memory of his lost parents would come flooding back. But Peter could always rely on his mentor to ground him and though he had experienced too much loss a 15-year-old should have, he had Mr Stark to valiantly remind him yet again that everything will be alright .

Thus Peter was determined to return the favor.

Maybe Tony had a fallout with Rhodey? A misunderstanding with Pepper? It was not the first time the man had returned with a well-deserved shiner, courtesy from the dame for overstepping his boundaries. Really, Mr Stark had to stop making cocky advancements on Pepper who clearly was not going to take it sitting down.

Or perhaps it was about the traps? Days ago, Tony had left alone into the woods, stressing how he did not want Peter to follow him much to the latters annoyance. The younger had simmered in his frustration and carried it home to sulk, not waiting for the man to return that night. Peter hoped he had not irritated Mr Stark into a crunch about wanting to check on The Iron Webs with him.

"Do you sometimes feel like you opened a can of absolute shit and fucked up real bad?"

The older man quipped finally, making Peter frowned a little at Tony's efforts in evading the query and the bout of profanity; but a part of him was relieved that he was not the cause of his mentor's unease. Mr Stark was particular on the language used in The Forge . Not that he had been the creator of the rule of course. The head of the town's blacksmiths had berated endlessly about Tony's vile language and had put it upon himself to ensure the blacksmiths under his leadership set the highest professionalism and regard.

Stane was bald-headed, ratty-looking and one of the most unpleasant human Peter had the pleasure of meeting. One did not need his skills of observation to know that. The creep once smiled at him with all teeth and it literally sent shivers down Peter's spine.

"We might not be the mainline of defense for this town but we sure create the means to be it! We will hold ourselves to greater standards and profanity will not be tolerated. Don't make me take it up to the Council about your improper behavior Stark!"

Peter remembered with a fond smile how Mr Stark curled his lip and rolled his eyes to kingdom come on that fateful day. There was an epic snarking session between the two older blacksmiths and the youngest managed to pick up a few new colorful expressions with the amount of expletives strewn about in the air. The irony not lost on anyone.

But the threat upon his mentor's job as a blacksmith and the risk of actually sending Nick Fury his way was greater than the bad blood between them and Tony bitingly gave up the fight so he could win the war another time.

"One day I'll be the boss Peter." Tony had hissed to him childishly once Stane was out of earshot.

"And I'll make Obadiah chew on all the fucks I have for him."

Peter pushed the sentimental memories out of his head as he placed the cool metal atop the workbench and nodded in Tony's direction, indicating that he was listening. But the man was not even looking in his direction. His eyes were staring into the empty space between them with an air of loss and bitter contempt towards himself.

"I have no idea if I had made things worse… I don't know if I can fix it this time."

The youngest struggled to interpret the underlying meaning behind those very vague words. Could it be that a weapon he created misfired or malfunctioned in battle and someone had gotten hurt? Peter knew how much effort Tony used to forge the best ammunition against the Sorcerers. He took pride and personal responsibility in each an every single one of his creations. With a sigh, the youngest knew his mentor would take each failure to heart and with the growing expectations of the town's people Tony would allow the weight of it all to eat at him.

To err is human after all. No one in this world lived without experiencing failure.

Sometimes Peter hated the people of Genevra for making Tony feel that they only wanted him for his skills and not for the great selfless man he truly was.

"Not everyone is perfect Mr Stark. You could always go back and finish the job properly again. You'll never know till you try!" The words left Peter in a rush as he tried with all his might to find the correct way to express the act of his faultless failure into the thick-skull of his mentor.

"Maybe it will put you at ease by taking care of things once and for all the second time around!"

* * *

The sun remained steadfast in the like a blazing ball of fire, casting a late afternoon shadow on the two teenagers as they scrambled in a rush of furious desperation to complete their assigned mission. It was a race against the elements and losing would mean the contender collapsing with dehydration.

Well maybe it was not that dramatic. But someone had to take one for the team and pluck the ripened apples from the fifty-odd fruit trees surrounding the western gate before the fresh harvest shriveled under the strangling heat or get consumed by wildlife.

Peter was starting to regret leaving The Forge in favor of helping Shuri facilitate the children of the town to assist in the collection of fruits on the outskirts of Genevra. Mr Stark had generously given the rest of the day to Peter much to the latter's delight. The older blacksmith had decided with a sudden apparition of resolve and determination that the great Tony Stark 'was going to take care of things once and for all'. It was nice to know Peter was a little responsible for his mentor's rapid motivation, whatever it might be.

Truly, it was a nice change from the self-deprecating angst that had been rolling off Mr Stark like a wave in the last two days.

If only Peter could regain the same sense of satisfaction here as the oldest in the group of juveniles. It was a chaotic mess of yelling and hollering before Peter finally manage to wrangle one full apple basket each into their grubby hands. With a huff of barely concealed irritation, he watched as his fellow teen ushered the children back into the direction of Genevra.

Peter swore he could see the daylight guards laughing at their attempts from the western gates several yards away as they welcomed the tiny horrors back into the town.

"Oh my God I'm going to get a sunburn!" Shuri drawled with all the flare of a melodramatic princess, pulling the hood of her shirt up further to cover her dark face.

Rolling his eyes fondly at his best friend's performance, Peter replied with a mocked deadpanned sigh.

"If anyone is going to burn it would be my pale pasty self!"

With a smirk, Shuri strode up to Peter and shoved an empty fruit basket in his hands.

"C'me on my favorite white boy. There's one more row of trees at the end. I'll take the left side and you take the right." A glint of challenge sparkled in her hazelnut eyes.

"Last one who finishes treats the other for dinner!"

"Deal!" Peter exclaimed, his competitive streak coming alive at once and motioned at the girl to give the signal. Shuri flipped her dreadlocks away from her face and nodded.

"One, two- GO!"

"Hey! You didn't say three!"

Peter snorted as Shuri's laughter rang out ahead leaving him in the dust of leaves settling down to the earth for a second before giving chase relentlessly.

Five minutes later found two sticky teenagers sprawled and panting under the biggest apple tree, faces flushed with smudges of dirt and sweat but boring twin smiles and chortles of delighted laughter. It was a close race but Peter's longer legs compensated for his false start and managed to give him the edge to be victorious.

"Gahh! You and your spiderlegs." Peter curled his lip into a grin when Shuri huffed good-naturedly taking her 2nd place in stride. The older teen snagged his water container from his daypack and quickly gulped down the cool liquid before offering some to his friend. The girl exchanged it with a piece of fruit and tossed Peter an apple from her basket as a congratulatory gift before continuing cheekily, "Here's tonight's desert as promised!"

Feigning disappointment, the older teen sighed and crossed his arms in a pout.

"Oh well… Looks like I have to tell the world who the biggest sore-loser in Genevra is."

"I'm kidding! I'm kidding!" Shuri yelped, jumping up animatedly and caused a smile to reappear on Peter's face again.

"I'll be making stew tonight with my folks. Come by our place before the sun sets!"

"You guys had better not ruin it before I arrive!"

The girl blew a sassy raspberry before playfully shoving his water container back at him. "We aren't beasts!"

When Peter raised a brown knowingly, Shuri sighed in exasperation.

"I'll make sure N'Jadaka behaves and not start another food fight with my brother again in your presence."

"Better!"

Peter really loved spending time with the other youths in the town but Shuri never ceased to brighten his day. It was hard to find someone who could keep up with his fast-paced thought process, who was as observant as he was and who could return his crazy banter. Shuri had ticked all the boxes in his metaphorical checklist. With the addition of having a charm for sarcasm and mischief and being incredulously smart, what more could a boy want?

"You win this round." The girl declared. "But when I start my training under Ms Romanoff next week I'll beat your ass!"

"Holy shit!" It was Shuri's dream to be a Tracker and Peter knew she was going to be attached with a senior one soon. But he didn't think it would be the town's scariest dame!

"How did you manage to convince her to be your mentor?" Good lord, that woman can make even the toughest men flee in terror with just a glare. Peter was genuinely curious on how Shuri had managed to pull it off.

"The same way you managed to be apprenticed by Genevra's best blacksmith!" His friend returned smartly, eyes twinkling with mirth.

Touché.

"Speak of the devil. Isn't that him right there?"

Peter swirled his head around sharply at Shuri's words as she pointed him to the direction of the west gate. Sure enough, Mr Stark was seen nodding at the guard and heading away from the pair, striding towards the thick of the forest. There was a bulky rucksack thrown on his shoulders and Peter saw a glimpse of his tool harness wrapped around his waist.

Huh. Was that chainmail under Tony's thicker than normal tunic? And didn't Tony say he was going to take care of things?

Intrigued, Peter could not help but wonder where his mentor was going. Surely Tony could not have had completed and given closure to whatever had been plaguing him so soon.

An idea was forming in his mind and theories of where the older man was going and what he had planned to do begun bouncing around in Peter's head.

"Hey Shuri could you do me a favor? Take my basket back for me please!" He spoke quickly, pushing the apples closer to the girl's feet, his eyes not leaving the blacksmith who was walking further and further away.

"I'm going to go help Mr Stark."

"Didn't he give you the day off?"

"Yeah but I'm sure he's going to check The Iron Webs and he'll need help to reset the traps!"

Shuri was clearly not falling for it if the squinting of her eyes and the cocking of her perfect brow was saying anything. Her next comment confirmed it.

"You're clearing going to tail your mentor to see what he's up to aren't ya?"

Goddammit. It frightened Peter a little at how easily she saw right through him. His desperation must have had been tangible because the girl gave in after a heartbeat.

"Fine fine. Only because you won Parker!"

"You're the best!" Peter exclaimed and surged forward engulfing his friend a tight hug, ignoring the yelp that escaped Shuri. With a See you tonight! and a Don't tell anyone okay? tossed across his shoulder, the youngster grabbed his daypack and ran to catch up with his mentor.

It was a half-hearted attempt to shadow Tony, that Peter knew. He had literally the stalking skills of a clumsy honey badger on ice. (There was a reason he signed up to be a blacksmith and not a Tracker). The teen was certain that he would be heard within five minutes of stumbling about before being discovered and then sent back to the town with a slap on the wrist or a tongue-lashing. But the blacksmith was marching forward with all the purpose of a man on a mission. His tunnel-vision seemingly blocking out everything and anything around him as Tony continued moving westwards confidently.

Peter bit his lip as a twig snapped under his foot and echoed into the forest clearly but his mentor as observed, did not even twitch or make a move to turn around to watch his back. Well that wasn't very safe was it now? For all he knew, Peter could be the enemy prowling behind with all intent of executing an ambush. Sometimes Peter wondered how the talented and admirable Mr Stark had such minimal survival instincts.

Keener, one of the newest Trackers who was present at the border patrol skirmish had told his exaggerated tales of horror in the forest saying he had almost died, narrowly missing a blast of magic from a Sorcerer that scorched the grass black. The youths of the town shivered in alarm and pressed closer to soak in the story and assisted in pumping Harley's ego. But Peter called bullshit. A real high-powered Sorcerer would have taken down every living thing within a mile of its location easily, he had thought.

Alas, it didn't stop the feeling of apprehension in him when the grass crackled unusually noisily under Peter's feet as he saw the trees thinning and an open sandy clearing come in view. He could hear the remote swirling of water in the dried up ravine far below and the crunch of heavy boots on gravel. Mr Stark had finally came to a stop after fifteen minutes of trampling through the forest.

Peter ducked behind a big oak tree several yards away as Tony stood at the edge of the cliff and begun digging around in his rucksack. There was a hair-raising feeling of unease as if the surrounding air had been electrified before and left static residue in its wake. The youngster couldn't really put his finger down on the feeling but he did not like it.

Peter had never actually seen a Sorcerer before much to the deadpan of his morbid curiosity. The war raged on incidentally but it had simmered down within the last decade and seeing them around now was a rarity. This was the one topic and discussion that remained unspoken between him and Tony though. "I hope you never encounter one ever" was all his mentor had to say about it and Peter had never brought the redacted subject up again. He knew his mentor had history with these beings. And it was definitely not memorable ones.

Certainly, he had heard just about all of the horror stories about the Sorcerers though. Peter's vivid imagination often conjured up images of what he thought their hated enemy would appear to be. Perhaps there were sharp foreign runes carved into their flesh with tendrils of supernatural energy flowing through their veins with malice. They would probably be armed with razor sharp teeth and claws like talons. Peter reckoned that they had eyes that could glow in the dark and the power of their magic could incinerate a human instantly and annihilate towns.

He was curious but he wasn't stupid. If he ever saw even a glimpse of such a diabolical, nightmarish creature he would not hesitate to run in the opposite direction. Peter will leave it to the Trackers and other warriors to do the slaying thank you very muc-

Oh shit, Mr Stark was attempting to scale down the goddamn cliff.

"What the hell man…" Peter swore that he would get his mentor to attend a desperately needed lesson in self-preservation when they got back. Maybe Sam could help. He was as close as a shrink this dysfunctional town had.

Peter watched as Tony stabbed a chunk of a reinforced curved iron plate into the ground and secured a roll of thick nylon rope to the end of the metal. Tugging at it experimentally, the blacksmith deemed it safe and tied the other end to the harness on his waist. Without a second's hesitation, he donned his blacksmith gloves and began to descend into the gorge. The rope stretched taut and then Mr Stark disappeared from view.

The youngster patiently gave himself a couple of minutes before lowering himself to the ground carefully, wincing at the way the gravel shuffled underfoot and peered over the edge. He watched as Tony safely reached the base of the ravine, undid the rope from his belt, stripped off his gloves and began to follow the gentle river onwards along the dried mud banks.

A resented sigh left Peter pointedly as the youngster squashed his fear of heights far into the back of his head. He had come too far to turn back now.

Many a time, all for fun and games, the youths of the town would scale the length of the huts in Genevra. Each daring the other to go to greater heights. Once, Peter had climbed to the top of the council's high tower. It was a pretty darn tall building and but he made it safely down as well. Albeit, it was safe to say Aunt May sprouted more grey hair overnight after that incident. So how different and hard could abseiling a 20 foot cliff be?

"Well here goes nothing!" He exclaimed to no one in particular, feeling a surge of determination and the tingling sense of apprehension running down his spine.

Hopefully Mr Stark would not be that pissed with him when he was inevitably discovered. The feeling of anticipation at what his mentor was going to find overthrew the logical side of him that hissed what a fucking terrible idea this is!

With that, Peter tightened his daypack onto the small of his back and began his slow and careful freehand decent down into the valley.

**A/N**

**Poor Pete, he still has no idea what's going on. How do you think he's going react to the ultimately strange discovery?**

**I just thought to include a new pov to brighten things up. So here's some fun light-hearted fluff and me slowly bringing in the rest of the characters to this AU before the expected storm of drama rolls in all at once.**

**Comments and Favorites make me a happy writer. Please do not hesitate to spoil me with cookies :)**


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